


things fall apart

by badAquatic, orphan_account



Series: Trailerstuck [38]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/M, Illustrated, M/M, Organized Crime, Prostitution, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Karkat Vantas and you don’t know how long you’ve been here.</p><p>Takes place immediately after "uprooting and replanting".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in the red garden

**== >Be the mutantblood, exhausted**

You are Karkat Vantas and you don’t know how long you’ve been here. The hours blended together somewhere between the third and the fifth troll inside you. You tried to run. You tried to fight them tooth and nail but they handcuffed you to the bed frame. You faced the wall the entire time so you wouldn’t know your attackers. You have trouble deciding if it’s the laughter or how these fucks were just chatting casually while they did it.

Your abdomen hurts and genetic fluids are dripping out of you. Eventually someone comes in and uncuffs one of your hands, rolls you over. You’re dripping with sweat. You look at the purpleblood and recognize him as Roadie from your first day. He pours an energy drink down your throat. He smirks and tousles your hair.

“Aww, what’s wrong, mutie? You didn’t get to cum?” Roadie chuckles.

You growl but you don’t talk. What’s the point of talking? No one will listen. You tug at your handcuffed wrist.

“Look at you. You finally shut your mouth but you look just as defiant. You acting like we can’t break you.” He touches your face and you snap your teeth at him.

“Whoa there, li’l mutie. You better treat me nice since we’re gonna be the best of pals. With an egg sack your size, you’re gonna have _huge_ clutches. Brotherhood’s gonna be rolling in the boons.”

Clutches of eggs? Cash? This isn’t just sexual slavery; its part of the black market egg trade. That’s why they had a medical exam; to see how large your egg sack was and if you were fertile. You continue growling, showing your teeth more and tugging at the cuffed wrist.

“Not yet, slut.” Roadie grabs your chin, “See, I make sure that the boss gets the best sluts and none of these fuckers fool around too much. Point is: you make my life hell, _I’ll make yours far worse._ Trust me; there are some motherfuckers here you _don’t_ want to fuck. We got an understanding?”

You stop growling and nod slowly.

He smiles. “Good. Let’s seal the deal.”

Roadie doesn’t uncuff you until you finish sucking his bulge and swallow his genetic fluids. When you’re done, he puts a bag over your head. He carries you and when he removes the bag, you’re brought to what looks like a group showering area complete with basins.

“Try to get as much of the genetic fluids off of you as possible. The boss likes his bed warmers clean.” Roadie says.

You nod and have to grind your teeth so you don’t start screaming and swearing. You know enough about abduction that throwing a temper tantrum lowers your chance of survival. You have to stay calm and just hope that Eridan talked to Dave. You wish you knew what time it was but there’s no clock. Roadie stands next to you as you turn on the water, not allowing you a moment of privacy.

Another clown comes into the bathing room, carrying a rustblood. She’s screaming, scratching and biting. The clown has to wrestle her into a tub and after a few good smacks; the rustblood gives up and sulkily start to bathe.

“Shit, easy with the merch, pal.” Roadie says, “Cuts, bruises, and cripples don’t sell well.”

“I know but that bitch is _crazy_. You really think the boss is gonna take her? I wouldn’t stick my bulge in her mouth for a six-pack of Crystal Faygo.” says the other escort.

“Nah. Bossman’s got enough muties to last him.” Roadie says, “That rusty’ll fetch a good price at auction. They like the spirited ones. More fun to break.”

“Think these fuckers slam down twenty thou just to break ‘em and then get bored and don’t want ‘em anymore.”

“What do we care what they do? I just wrangle the fresh meat. _Hey!_ ” You jolt. “Hurry _up_ , slut! I don’t got all night.”

You turn off the water and get out. Roadie tosses a damp towel at you which still leaves your rather moist. He gives you a thin dress made out of cheap material to wear. You might as well be naked. The bag goes back over your head and you get carried again. After several twists and turns he comes to a stop. You get dropped on the ground.

You try to move the bag off your face but Roadie growls and taps you with his book, “It stays on. I know how to hurt sluts so they won’t bruise.” You remain perfectly still. What’s the point of trying to escape? You’re too sore to run fast. Heels click towards him and Roadie growls, “The shit do you want?”

“There’s been a change of plans. Mr. Raiola thinks the mutantblood would fetch a good price at auction or should be sent to a facility rather than be kept in the Mirthful Wing.” You recognize the voice as Bustil’s, calm as always.   

“Raiola is a fucktard and I don’t work for him.” Roadie growls.

“Mr. Raiola is still above you, and crossing him is the last thing you should do.”  

“Fucking kidding me with this power grabbing bullshit…” Roadie grumbles and picks you up. “I’m putting him in the Wing unless bossman says different. If Raiola wants to stir up shit, he can do it with the boss.”

“If you think that’s for the best.” You hear the smirk in her voice. “Try _not_ to fuck him.”

Roadie growls and walks off with you. That rotten bitch. The entire job was a front to lure warmbloods in, from the office to the uniforms to Bustil’s performance as the leader of an authentic business.

You pass through a doorway and get plopped onto something soft. Roadie takes the bag off your head and leaves you. The room is filled with large plush pillows and blankets in piles, curtains pulled back around beds and couches; colonnades decorated with garish harlequin faces. Its half-harem and half-Mirthful Church. The trolls here are nude warmbloods, mostly mutantbloods. They’re drinking wine, smoking weed, watching TV, and reading all while others ride bulge. Another is participating in a threesome with a cerulean and an oliveblood.

There are heavily scarred trolls by every entrance and exit, uninterested in what’s going on. The other mutantbloods look but they don’t come close to you. Eventually, a mutantblood approaches you. Their stomach is tattooed with the old purpleblood hemocaste symbol. There’s mascara around their eyes and their nipples are pierced.

“Alright.” they say, “Let’s get ya lookin’ nice.”

You growl at them and inch away, glaring at them. They sigh, “If ya fight em, they just gonna tie ya up. They like ya more when ya _don’t_ want it.” They pat you on the shoulder like you’re good friends. “Trust me.”

You want to tell them that they should help you get out of here, that you both could escape. No words come out though. They smile, “Come on. Let’s getcha ready fer da clients.”

You don’t want to get ready but you need them if you’re going to figure out how to escape. You don’t say anything but that just makes them more talkative. They tell you their name is Anoxia. You’re not sure if that’s an alias or not. They wipe you down with perfume and add some mascara and blush.

 

“Its not so bad here really. Been here da longest at four years.” Anoxia says.

Anoxia can’t be older than you, which means they were roughly fourteen when they were brought here. You swallow the disgust rising up your throat.

“Not like I had much left back home. Grew up in da Aniline. All my parents wanna do is have a lime fairy party all day long. Saw my Daddy OD when I was ten. Mama probably done da same by now. I lived with my uncle. When he get tired of me, he sold me to da Brotherhood.” Another shrug. “Da Brotherhood treat ya well. They give ya everythin’ ya want: food, clothes. I don’t have to worry about anythin’ here.”

 _I lived with my uncle_ or _I lived with my aunt_ is Aniline End slang for saying you lived with a much older troll and traded sex for rent. You look at the complacent and calm trolls, acting like this is just a group living arrangement. This is a paradise for the unwanted.  

Anoxia holds up the mirror and you barely recognize yourself with the mascara and eye shadow; jeweled barrettes pinning your hair back. You look like you’re starring in a bad porno.

You frown at your reflection and Anoxia sighs. “Well, ya can only work with whatcha got, but ya look a lot better now. And don’t worry ‘bout the clothes. If they stained or ripped, ya just give ‘em to the castrato.”

You give him a quizzical look. 

“Them.” Anoxia angles their head towards the trolls guarding the door. They whisper, “Those are Stabia’s old soldiers. They call Stabia _La Taglierina_. The Cutter! You piss him off?” Their middle and index fingers make a _snip-snip!_ gesture. “There goes your bulge! Capone lets ‘em guard us cause they ain’t interested in fuckin’.”

You make a mental note to not piss off Stabia if you encounter him.

More time passes and you’re too antsy to sit still. You sit in the corner of the room. Sometimes your hiding spot is discovered and you get pulled away by a clown. You just shut your eyes and wait for it to end. You wish you were unconscious.

No one notices how much you don’t want to be here. They eat and talk while you’re too nauseated by the fear of just being here. You go back to your corner and try not to be bothered by the slickness of genetic fluids between your thighs. You wish you could shout at the others _What in the fuck is wrong with you?!_ but your voice is as small as ever. You study the furniture instead of looking at the others, whimpering and whining as they’re being fucked not too far from where you’re sitting. One of the clowns looks in your direction and you dive, scrambling under a table. The underside is scratched with graffiti: _Fuck you capone i hope your bulge falls off_ and _stabias bulge is small n useless_. There is one that stands out as its not insulting any of their clients. Squinting, you make out the jagged words: _I am Godzilla. I crushed 300000 under my feet._

Anoxia approaches you and squats beside the table. They must know that as a treasured hiding spot. “If ya don’t eat, they’ll force ya. They did that to Monnui. She refused to eat so they forced a tube down her throat and made her swallow Ensure. Then she tried to run on foot.” They swallow, “She got as far as the end of the hall ‘fore they shot her in the head. Happens to a lotta trolls who can’t cope.”

Intimidation is the only weapon they have here. No one wants to fuck a troll covered in bruises or missing fingers. If Monnui had escaped, it would inspire too much hope in the others. This isn’t a harem. It’s a prison brothel.

While Anoxia is servicing a client (which is what they are called, like this is just business) you’re escorted by a castrato to bathe in the adjoining bathroom with the massive tub with some of the others. You get into the water and keep to yourself in the warm water.

“Oh lookit Anoxia’s shy li’l pet.” says one.

“Anoxia’s only hangin’ ‘round him cause they had a clutch. Still feelin’ the hormones.” says another.

No birth control had been passed out and no one was wearing a condom. The eggs laid here would go to the black market. When you’re allowed to leave the bathroom, you go back to corner. The sound of trolls fucking becomes bland background noise. You consider the food, water, expensive jewels, and wonder how much it costs to feed all ten of the whores here.

You realize that even if you escape, you don’t know your way around this part of the manor. You’ll never see your family again. You’ll never know what your kids will look like. You’ll never find out if Jade was pregnant or if you could make your joint relationship with Dave work. You never got to tell Kankri you were sorry for upsetting him; that despite all your anger, he had come a long way. You never got to ask him what happened between your father and him to bring you into the world, if it was an act of pitch or flush.

You don’t realize you’re crying until Anoxia tells you your mascara is running. They don’t comment on your tears and just dry your face, then reapply your make up.

“Trust me,” they says, “when ya look pretty, ya _feel_ pretty. Just takes some getting’ used to!”

More hours pass. It has to be early morning by now. You wonder if Eridan tried messaging you, or gave up because you were an asshole. You sit in the corner, silent, and watch the usual routine in the Mirthful Wing. Mornings are the least busy times. You get meals three times a day. The trolls are very territorial; a lot of them receiving special gifts from their clients. The gifts are either food or jewelry, which are shared and bragged about.

“I’m sure ya’ll get plenty o’ gifts too, dear.” Anoxia says, “There’s already some buzz ‘bout ya. If ya play yo cards right ya’ll be as popular as me.”

Anoxia’s adapted so well because they have nothing else. You still have friend and family. You want to scream in their face _Fuck no! I’m getting the hell out of here!_ But your throat is still clogged. This place is inverting you. Anoxia tells you some of the many rules here, the strictest being about talking about your past for too long. While Anoxia is servicing someone, you lay on a pile of pillows and fight the violent squirming in your stomach. The others don’t approach you but they do gossip.

“Y’think he’s wriggled?” asks one.

“Maybe. The white coat will be in here soon to check.”

“Anoxia’ll be sad. He just got here and already he’ll be put somewhere else.”

“Only for the last couple of months. They’ll keep him around to make sure he has a large clutch.”

Hearing that makes you vomit. Then you see the swirl of genetic fluids and bile on the tiled floor and start screaming. Not words but an irrational howl. No one is startled by your screaming. They treat it like natural background noise; like cats yowling. A castrato picks you up and carries you to the bathroom with Anoxia following. Anoxia runs some cold water and the castrato dunks you underwater. Not long enough to choke but enough to discourage the screaming. The castrato leaves you with Anoxia.

“Shit. What a mess…” they sigh.

You don’t look at them as Anoxia cleans you up, gives you mouthwash and a toothbrush, reapplies your make-up, and says that you shouldn’t be upset because of how popular you’re going to be. That makes you feel worse. You choke down some green grapes, a wedge of cheese, and left-over prosciutto. It doesn’t settle your stomach.

You sit in the corner, still trying to think of an escape. You don’t know how much time is passing because there are no clocks. The TV is streaming shows over the internet so there’s no fixed time. After what feels like hours, the door opens and Roadie enters. He has a black eye and a broken nose he’s pinching to staunch the blood.

“Karkat!” he barks.

You don’t respond but Anoxia grabs your arm and drags you to Roadie. You’ll get in trouble if you don’t speak when spoke to, come when you’re told to. Your heart is pounding. You hope you’re not going to be tossed into a shipping crate. Roadie picks you up and walks off. You descend the stairs and on the ground floor, you see the signs of battle. Clowns are bloody and bruised, some of them missing fingers. Others are getting their wounds cleaned or stitched.

Roadie carries you to the front door and drops you on the ground. “Here. Take the slut if you want him so motherfucking badly.” he snarls.

You look up and there is Dirk, standing alone on the manor front lawn. His jeans are splattered with purple blood and he’s holding two katanas. There are two clowns on the grass, one whose head has been cut off and another who’s gurgling for air and holding their throat.

Dirk glances at you and then looks up at Roadie. “You sent him out in _that?_ ”

“The other clothes belong to Mr. Capone.” Roadie grumbles.

Dirk doesn’t roll his eyes or  growl, “Where are his things? His iHusk, his wallet, and everything else he was carrying?”

“How in the shit should I know?” Roadie grumbles.

“You know or your boss knows, and we don’t leave until we get it.” Dirk says with finality.

Roadie glowers and goes back inside the manor. Minutes later Roadie returns and shoves your wallet and iHusk in your hands. “That’s everything. Piss off and if you’re smart, you’ll keep your mouth fucking shut.” he growls before retreating back inside.

You sit there paralyzed. Your iHusk battery’s almost dead. Your Trollian is flashing with messages from everyone you know. 

“Come on, Karkat.” Dirk sighs.

You nod and slowly stand but your legs are wobbling. It hurts to walk. Your hips ache and the genetic fluids you couldn’t wash off have dried onto your inner thighs. You look at Dirk’s jeans splattered with purpleblood. You couldn’t even prevent those fucks from using up your body. You’re too tired to cry. You stagger halfway to the car before the sky spins  and then darkness. 


	2. in another time and place

You stand in a murky room with paint flaking paint off the walls. Vriska is kneeling on the floor, eye bruised and dried tears on her face. She is surrounded by giggling, yammering puppets. Their faces are painted like a garish doll with red lips and sharp wooden teeth. One of them bites her arm and another goes for her face. Rage takes hold of you and you charge. You don’t have any weapon but your fists. You go after the fuckers swinging. You smash the first one’s skull open but there’s no sawdust or plush filling, just blue-white sparkling dust. It smells sugary.

You wake up, mouth dry and almost falling over. Dirk reaches out to steady you as you wobble. You’re swaddled in a blanket, shivering. “Karkat. Karkat, calm down. You’re safe now.”  

You’re lying on a cot in the back of a room with tall shelves towering over you, filled with bags of dried grains, pickled vegetables, and dried meats. You’re not wearing the skimpy clothes anymore, but a faded T-shirt that goes down to your knees.

Dirk sits in a fold-out chair next to you. “You passed out from exhaustion and you’re dehydrated. Here.”

He helps you sit up and coaxes you into drinking down half a cup of salty broth. You slurp, cough, and lay back when you’re done; too exhausted to even complain about the indignity of this. Somewhere, a door opens and you hear talking in Trussian. A bulky mutantblood walks over to Dirk, carrying a small bag. You could’ve sworn he was your grandfather but his build is less bulky, more like that of a professional dancer, and his features are different. His forehead is broader, his lips thinner, and his chin wide with a heavy jaw. His hair is also more brown than jet black like yours.

“Karkat, this is Sergei. He owns the building we’re in.” Dirk says.

Sergei nods and shines a light in your eyes. He asks you in a thick Trussian accent to follow his finger with your eyes, which you do. Afterwards he tells Dirk, “He doesn’t appear to have been drugged.”

You shake your head, “I…w-wasn’t. I just…I was doing it for money at first and then they…” You can’t admit that they held you captive and you couldn’t do anything about it; just a weak little mutantblood who can’t do anything for himself.

Sergei shrugs, your silence communicating the situation. He leaves the pantry and you look at Dirk. “Th-thank you. Why did you…save me, Dirk? You must have risked a lot to come rescue me.”

“You are a part of _my_ family,” Dirk says, “and I will not let _anyone_ take my family from me again. Do you think I’d let you end up like those trolls in Los Jaspers?”

“Oh.” you croak. You had been trying not to think about that. It was too disturbing and almost your future. “You knew this whole time that the job was connected to the Brotherhood didn’t you?”

“I was seventy percent certain just from the pay alone,” Dirk responds, “Just to be sure, I asked Kankri about it and he confirmed by fears.” He leans against the wall, “Lutecore is a shell company owned by NEBio, used to cook their books tax and profit wise. All of Lutecore’s products are manufactured by Clean Horizons, another NEBio company. NEBio is a Nehetalian company, so most likely, the person who cooks Lutecore’s books also works for the Brotherhood higher-ups. Lutecore sponsors the Merry Meet Maid Service and in exchange, the Brotherhood is supplied a regular influx of immigrants and other desperate people who won’t be missed if they disappear.”

You think of the other maids, their faces haunting you. “So…they’re all gone then? Just like I was going to be?”

“Most likely. Anyone who speaks English would have usually been shipped abroad to Brazilitim or Nehetaly. A language barrier, along with being in a strange place, would prevent them from seeking out authorities. Immigrants have few rights in New Jack City so they wouldn’t be missed and there’s no motivation to find them.”

You’re silent; trying not to think of the others trapped there.

“Now isn’t really the time for moping about the others.” Dirk says, “Some trolls welcome that life. You got sifted into that mess with those hopeless people. You have _options_ , Karkat. Its about time you take them and stop having such a myopic view on your future.”

“I know…” You don’t feel any better.

“You need to get your priorities straight. What do you have to do next?”

“See a doctor…” you mutter. You have the money to pay for one clinical trip. Gods knows what those clowns had. “Get another job. Figure out what I’m going to do post high school since I’m going to be a senior. Figure out how to raise two kids…”

Dirk smiles, “You’re not alone in figuring out any of that. You should talk to Kankri since he has experience in these things.”

You really should talk to Kankri. Dirk helps you sit up and walk to the pantry door. Outside of the pantry is a bar. There are some employees mulling around, one sweeping and polishing glasses and whistling. Sergei is sitting at a table and reading a Trussian paper. The air smells of vodka, cabbage, and vinegar.

You can’t walk very far so Dirk sits you at a booth. A waiter immediately brings you food. Its not much; a cold green soup that smells of celery and tarragon, bright orange-red slices of salmon with a toasted dark bread.

“Eat up.” Dirk says, “You look like you haven’t eaten all day.”

“I haven’t.” you admit. “Everything that’s been going on and I…I don’t feel hungry.” You fidget, “What happened to my clothes? I mean. I know I wasn’t wearing much but I…” You feel dizzy sitting in this unfamiliar place with strangers all around you. Even the waiter gives you the look of sympathy, pitying the stupid mutantblood who got himself into this mess.

“Karkat…” Dirk sighs.

“How did you…even know I was in trouble?” you mutter, “At that exact moment?”

Dirk sighs, “Last night, Eridan came over my trailer saying you were in trouble. No one could get in contact with you or knew exactly where you were but Eridan said you were at work being exploited. Dave wanted to go to the police, but if he had done that, you would have disappeared immediately.” He sips from a small glass of vodka, “The Brotherhood isn’t fond of dealing with the police, even if they have most of them in their pocket. When someone is too ‘hot’, they send them overseas to their friends in Brazilitim or back home in Nehetaly.”

“Mmm…” You don’t know what to say about that. You’ve never been outside of New Jack and the idea being shanghaied to another country because you were stupid makes you feel squeamish.

“Dave is worried about you. He’s been up all night seeing if you’ll come back.” Dirk says, “You should go to him.”

“Go? To Dave?” You think of Dave and Jade seeing you in a shirt that wasn’t obviously yours and knowing what happened. Your stomach feels more squeamish.

Dirk must sense your unease because he suggests, “Or…we could go to Kankri. He’s been worried about you more than anyone else.”

You nod slowly. Kankri would understand. Capone knew him. You’re not afraid to talk to Kankri about this. He wouldn’t have room to judge. You follow Dirk outside of the bar and into the bright sunlight. You still need help walking. Riding in the truck, you lapse into another silence and fall asleep again. When you wake up, you’re in your old living room with Kankri sitting next to you. You inch away from him.

“Karkat, its me.” He says gently, “You’re home. Dirk brought you.”

You don’t know what to say. Your last conversation with Kankri was you screaming at him for being a lying fuck, and a drunk asshole. Yet there he is; sitting calmly and watching you with worried eyes. You had all the words built up for what you were going to say and now you’re dumbstruck. You’re back in that place again, silent and afraid of everything around you.

Kankri makes nothing of it though. He goes to the kitchen and returns with a glass of water and a small bottle of pills. He gives you the glass.

“I want you to swallow one of these pills.” Kankri says.

You stare at him. Kankri sighs.

“Yes, this is an abortifacient. I’ve always had them just in case of emergency. This is the real thing.” 

You don’t know what to do. You never thought that you’d have to make this kind of decision or that it would ever be an issue in your life. You feel more nauseous. It’d a miracle if you weren’t pregnant. You start trembling. Kankri sits next to you and touches your shoulder.

“It will hurt but trust me; you don’t want to have those eggs. The only reason they fucked you is so they could sell them to people who would eat them, raise child soldiers, or make false medication with.”

You don’t protest or say anything. You just nod and take the pill. You still look him in the eye.

“Listen to me, Karkat,” he says, “this…guilt or shame is usually what people feel afterwards. But this isn’t your fault and you are _not_ the one to blame for this. You didn’t deserve this or bring this upon yourself. You are…you are _not_ the only one who’s fallen under Capone’s trap. I was…younger than you when it all started for me. He…” He swallows, “…he most likely targeted you because of me. If I had been a more vigilant parent, if I had taught you how to protect yourself, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. I can only… _imagine_ how you feel right now, Karkat...”

You’re staring at the wall. You’re listening to him but you’re not sure how to react. Kankri’s lectures had been something to ignore; paragraphs of words that meant nothing and would help no one. Now his voice sounds so raw and you’re reminded that Kankri always had sympathy for those in plight. Behind that mound of extremely unhelpful social justice bullshit was a compassionate heart. There's an ache in his voice; the sound that he wishes he could assure you that Capone would pay but he can’t, just like Dirk couldn’t. So there’s nothing that can be done. He can’t even lecture you about how you’ll get over this because you may not. Not now, or ever.  

You can’t say anything to him.

 

* * *

 

The pills take effect immediately and it feels like everything inside of you is being ripped out. The vomiting is the worse. Troll biology abhors vomiting. Its built to resist those urges and keep nutrients in, so when it does happen, it takes a lot out of you. Seeing the bile is far worse. Your body still hasn’t purged all the genetic fluids you swallowed and there’s a hideous taint of purple to the bile coming out of you. You’re beyond exhausted when you leave the bathroom. You’re going to have to invent a word to describe how tired you feel. Outside the bathroom, Kankri is waiting for you. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks. You’re afraid to open your mouth since you might vomit again. “Yes, you’re going to feel a bit queasy for a while. Are you feeling a bit better? No? Then you should lay down.”

Kankri helps you to his bedroom and you lay on the daybed. He wraps a blanket around you and coaxes you into drinking some tea that should settle your stomach.

“I.” You whisper, then stop. Kankri leans in close and strokes the back of your neck. You’re grasping for verbal straws, “…I just wanted the money so badly…put myself in harm’s way because of it…”

“Karkat, you can always get a job. I wish you had told me earlier.” Kankri says, “Sergei always needs help at his bar since they’re expanding. Dirk was telling me about it.”

You sit up slowly. “What?”

“Sergei. He’s a Trussian mutantblood who owns the Railway, a Trussian bar downtown.” Kankri says, “He was a friend of your father’s along with many of the other mutantbloods and the Trussian immigrant community. Trussia, as you should know, is a communist country ruled by a mutantblood dictator after the overthrowing of the purpleblood tsar. Well, not so much ‘overthrowing’ as ‘brutal execution’ of his family and his fellow aristocrats. I would have thought you’d have asked Dirk about it since he…Karkat? Are you…okay?”

“You mean...I didn’t have to do that? _Any_ of that? Oh my gods.” You grind your fangs, “Oh my gods. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Karkat, its alright. You’re young. We all make _mistakes_ …”

“Yeah, but this mistake almost fucked up my entire life! I just… _fuck_!” Your fist slams into the wall. You’re shaking but not crying; just angry and impotent in your rage because you can’t inflict it on anyone but yourself. “I’m such a fucking moron…I… _fuck…”_

“I’ll go get Terezi.” Kankri resolves and leaves the room.

You curl up in a blanket; try not to think too hard of your immense idiocy. Terezi shows up thirty minutes later; her glasses are off and her hair mussed. She’s wearing a wife beater and Scalemate boxers.

You sit up slowly. Terezi sniffles and hugs you. “We thought we’d never see you again.”

Her choked up voice sounds so far off and distant to you.

“We…?” You mutter.

“Eridan went over to Dave’s trailer and said you were in trouble. Dave panicked and he wasn’t comforted by Dirk telling him not to go to the police. You weren’t responding to your iHusk either. Jade was worried about him and told me so I came over to stay with him.” Terezi says. “Eridan was already there and so was Sollux. Eventually Kanaya came over…we were all worried about you. We’re all friends, Karkat. We grew up together. John would be here if his boss wasn’t an asshole and he wasn’t in Midway City.”  

Midway City was four hours from New Jack City, a place that New Jackers travelled to for its theme parks, like Crockerworks Studios and SeaPlanet. At least Egbert _tried_ to come. “I was stupid. That’s all there is to it.”

“You don’t have to talk about what happened, Karkat,” Terezi sighs, “at least let Dave see that you’re alright. He’s been up all night with Jade worried sick about you.”

You frown. “I don’t see why. He has Jade doesn’t he? Why does he care what happens to me? He was using me to get to her. The only reason I couldn’t yell at him was because I slept with Vriska and you. Everyone…everyone just _uses_ me to get what they want.”

Terezi frowns. “If Dave was just using you, he wouldn’t have been worried for you. You’ve been through a lot. If you don’t want to see Dave, that’s fine. I won’t force you. But as your moirail, I should tell you that everyone was worried about you. We’re all like a disjointed family. You have _every_ reason to still be upset with Dave, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to care when you get hurt.”

It’s unsettling the way she says you got _hurt._ Like you broke your leg. Like you shattered your kneecap. Like you weren’t abducted and slated to work in a brothel or sold off like vintage furniture at an auction. You want to vomit but there’s little to nothing in your stomach, just disgust at yourself for letting this happen.

“I didn’t even have to do it.” you say, “I could have gotten another job, but I was so obsessed with the money and making sure my kids would have a future and… _fuck_.” You take a deep breath to prevent you from crying, “I-I’m just a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Karkat. You just got caught up in things. It…it’s…” Terezi hesitates and then says, “…its like when my mother wouldn’t leave my father, even when he started hitting her and blinded me.” Terezi doesn’t look upset though as she admitted it.

“I. Uh.” you stammer, “I mean, I always…” You always know Mituna had _something_ to do with Terezi’s blindness. Only psionic scarring causes that sort of damage, not the faulty electrical wires Latula had told people. You didn’t know Mituna was abusive, or rather, past Mituna. “…what do you mean? Becoming trapped?”

“It’s easy to become trapped, Karkat, because easily spiral out of control.” Terezi says quietly, “My mother and my father did mind honey together throughout high school. No one at the time realized how dangerous it could be; it was just something you did for fun. My mother didn’t think it was so bad. After all, my father was successful and they were happy…until she realized that he was taking mortgage money to fuel his habit. Then things fell apart. I don’t know why my mother stayed with my father after he burnt out. We lost the house and almost everything we owned. Maybe she really loved him. Or maybe she felt guilty. She could have lived with my grandmother if she was afraid or had my father locked up…but she didn’t.”

Terezi looks at you. “Terrible things happen to good people all the time but its picking up afterwards that’s the hardest.”

“What makes you think Dave will still want me? Why would _anyone_ want me? I…I must still smell like that… _place_.” you say.

“You smell fine, Karkat.” Terezi says. “Let’s just get you home. Dave’ll be happy to see you.”

Kankri doesn’t have much for summertime clothes so you get a long sleeve shirt that’s two sizes too big and shorts. You left your clothes and sneakers at the Merry Meet office. Bustil or Kismas must have disposed of them with the others so there’s no trace you were ever there. You limp across the street with Terezi and think about the others. The nameless co-workers you’ll never know or see again. You only got away because you knew the right people. What would have happened if you never moved in with Dave or met Dirk?

Terezi knocks on the door of the Strider mobilehive and you’re greeted by an exhausted looking Dave with his shades pushed up into his white hair. You can see the bags under his eyes. He hugs you before you can get a single word out.

“I thought I’d never see you again…” he whispers.

You can’t say anything. Your throat feels closed up. You hug him back and your eyes start to water. “Same…” you whisper. You smile, “…shit, Strider. What are you crying for? I-I’m in one piece…”

“Fuck you, Vantas.” Dave mutters, “ _You’re_ the one who’s crying.”

“Asshole…” You gently headbutt him.

“Kar?” Eridan says from behind Dave. He’s wearing one of Sollux’s shirts with Trollzformers pajama pants.

Dave still has his arms around you as Eridan walks over to you. He’s the second to hug you.

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” he asks.

“I’ll live.” you conclude.

The inside of the mobilehive is crowded; pizza boxes and sleeping bags scattered around. The boxes of weaponry are absent, replaced by sleeping bodies. You step over Equius, who is sleeping close to the doorway.

“Man sleeps like a log.” Aradia yawns. She’s sitting in the corner, leaning against a box and wrapped up in a blanket.

Jade scrubs her eyes. She’s lying on the couch with Tavros curled up on her, with his face in her heftsacks. Bec is resting on her legs, panting and looking around.

“Guys! He’s back! Karkat’s back! Hey!” Jade nudges Nepeta, whose sleeping bag is next to hers on the couch. “Karkat’s back! Nepeta!”

Nepeta yawns and slowly sits up, “Ugh…so groggy. But. Good. Karkat’s back. Yay. I’d be more enthusiastic but I’m exhausted.”

“Glad to see you’re alright, Karkat,” Aradia says from her corner, “I’d stand up and hug you but I have several pounds of extra weight preventing me from standing easily.” 

You force a smile. “Looks like you’re not going anywhere with that brownblood in your cleavage, Harley.”

Jade growls and pushes Tavros away. “Hey! I am not your pillow, butterfly!” Tavros grunts, sitting up slowly.

You frown more. “Everyone’s here? Even the sketchy clown?”

“What? No.” Tavros is scrubbing his eyes, trying to wake up. “He’s been at work since early this morning.”

“ _That’s_ a sentence I’d never thought I’d hear: Gamzee at _work._ ” Nepeta snickers before Tavros kicks her.

That makes you feel a lot calmer. You can’t stand long though so Dave takes you to his room, which is looking more vacant with half of the things moved out. The bed is still here though and you crawl into it. After walking across the street, it feels good to lay down.

Dave sits next to you. “We started moving things once we got home.”

“Are you painting it for your baby?”

“We might paint it a brighter color.” Dave says, running his fingers through your hair.

“Where’re Jake and Dirk?”

“Upstairs hooking up the water and electricity.” He pauses, “Are you sure you don’t…need anything?”

“I’m fine. Kankri helped me out. Shouldn’t you be worried about your active matesprit?”

Dave rolls his eyes. “Oh please. She’s determined to keep in fit no matter how pregnant she gets. I’m more worried about you. After what…you’ve been through.”

“…how much do you know?”

“Enough.” He shakes his head, “You’d been acting weird all week, so I thought you had an asshole boss. But I never thought…anything like this would…”

He doesn’t know what to do. Why should he? He’s human and although human trafficking still happens, it’s not typical for male humans or the mutated to be in danger. He doesn’t have to constantly be afraid of his own kind kidnapping him and selling his offspring.

You smile weakly, “Dave. I’m…okay. I’m not great but I’m definitely… _okay_.”

“You shouldn’t be ‘okay’ with what happened, Karkat!” Dave replies, “You should tell the police.”

“We both know that won’t do any good.” you say, “The men who kidnapped me were Brotherhood. The others were immigrants or refugees. No one in New Jack City will care if they disappear. Out of twenty others who were taken, I’m the only one who got out.”

“That’s… _horrible_.”

“I know. And I…” Your head is starting to throb, “…I didn’t even learn any of their names. We were all just desperate strangers. Too stupid to realize we were in a trap. And the…the people there in that…prison.” _Brothel_ doesn’t fit that place. It was a secret room where kidnapped trolls were shut away. “They were happy. They didn’t care they had been abducted or sold. They were from Aniline End or were homeless. In that place…they got everything they wanted. And the worst part was I…I couldn’t talk. I was so afraid of not seeing you or anyone else ever again…I just…my voice ran away…I-I should have…s-screaming or something…but I just…choked…”

You’re too tired to cry. You’re gripping the sheets and breathing hard. Dave holds you and whispers, “You were afraid, Karkat. People…react differently to fear. I…” He hesitates and then says, “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through but I know what it’s like to try and…uh.” He pauses again, searching for words. “The reason I stayed quiet for so long wasn’t because I thought it was cool or that I had trouble understanding what people said to me. I was afraid of everyone so I kept quiet…because when you’re quiet, no one notices you and they leave you alone. So they don’t realize you’re afraid.”

This is Strider’s clumsy way of trying to take your mind off your plight and onto his own issues, or are these confused words of courage and sympathy? That he too knew what it was like to be afraid? He’s not your moirail so of course he’s going to be crummy at comforting you.

“Why were you afraid?” you ask.

“That’s the thing. I was too young to remember exactly _what_ I was afraid of but it haunted me. It’s like when a dog bites you when you’re little. You don’t remember the dog and even though the bite heals, you’re still afraid of dogs…”

“So you have no idea what scared you? No clues at all?”

Dave frowns. “Only one.”

“What?”

His frown intensifies and you can tell he’s wrestling with telling you the truth. A minute later he mutters, “Maggots…”

“Maggots?”

Dave nods. “My earliest memory is seeing maggots in a corpse. They were everywhere; in the eyes, the mouth and all the…soft parts were…being eaten.”

“Do you know whose corpse?”

Dave shakes his head. “No. I don’t remember anything else about the body aside from the face. I don’t even know where I was or what I was doing. Just the corpse but I was afraid of it and I can’t remember why anymore. As I got older, the memories started to fade so it was easier to talk I guess.”

Where was Dave when he saw the corpse? It’s rare to find dead bodies in New Jack City lying out in the open. Most killers preferred the swampy woods, isolated canals, or the back alleys of Aniline End for disposal unless they were in a hurry. And who was the corpse in question? Jake didn’t come into Dave’s life until much later, but would Dirk know? He took care of Dave after their parents died.

Dave stands. “Want something to eat?”

You smile. “Food would be great.”

You remain in the room because you’re still tired. Everyone is still hanging around the trailer, talking about you in nervous whispers. Egbert isn’t here, neither are Rose or Vriska. You hope no one told her about this. You don’t think you could ever face Vriska.

You get visitors in the room. Sollux asks if you’re alright and if you need anything. You say you’re fine and most of your visitors are fine with that. Eridan is harder to sway though.

“Kar, you know you could always talk to me about anything that happened, right?” Eridan says.

“I’m fine, Eridan.” you admit. “I just have a lot of muscle aches.”

“You should try a heating pad. That always helped me after a rough night.”

“Won’t you be back to sleeping with people as a priest of Blood and Haze?”

“I already told you that not all priests of Blood and Haze are sacred prostitutes. They provide other services. Its hard work being a priest; it’s not a cushy harem. There’s a lot of fasting, meditating, and communing. Blood and Haze isn’t just a god of sex, fertility, and chaos. He’s also a god of relationships, the romantic, caliginous, and platonic connections between people.”

“Okay, I get it.” You smile, “Damara must be rubbing off on you.”

Eridan shrugs. “She _is_ my moirail.”

“What? You broke up with Feferi? When?”

He nods. “Sunday; It was a mutual thing. Fef and I realized we had other people that needed us more than we needed each other at the moment and that we’ll always be friends and take care of our kids no matter what.”

“That’s surprisingly grown up of you.” You say, genuinely impressed.

He shrugs again. “We all have to grow up sometime. I have three grubs on the way that need security.”

“Us Vantas boys are super breeders.” You sigh, forcing a smile.

“Um,” Eridan chews his bottom lip, “I know you uh. Had a. Certain. Experience. So uh.”

“Kankri gave me some of his emergency contraceptive.” You say, filling in the awkward mad lib.

Eridan looks like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders when you said that. “Good then. I’d hate for you to…end up like Dad and be uncomfortable around your offspring…”

You stare at Eridan’s solemn face, “Cronus told you…the truth of your birth?”

“I asked him about it and I filled things out. It’s not like I didn’t know Grandpa wasn’t capable of assaulting Kankri like that...” You see the pain in Eridan’s eyes as he admits this, “Damara said a long time ago that if Grandpa had recovered, he would have turned me into his bucket if he ever found out what I was doing for money. The worst part about it is that I knew he’d do that. He wasn’t a nice man.” He smiles sadly, “But he raised me and I loved him. I..I miss him a lot.”

“You can’t change how you really feel about people.”

“Yeah…” Eridan doesn’t look happy admitting to it. Who could be, knowing what his grandfather has done? There were worse atrocities committed on Old Alternia. He didn’t earn his title “the Orphaner” being kind to grubs and elderly trolls.

You rest in bed. The visitors come to you, asking you how you’re feeling. It’s embarrassing having this much attention on you. When they’re not talking to you, they’re talking to Terezi. It’s rather tense between Dave and some of the others, namely Sollux, Kanaya, and Eridan. It has to be because of the quadrant flip. Even if things worked out, it’s still a faux pas to fuck someone outside of quadrants. Now that you’re focused again, you’ve noticed the tension between Dirk and Dave.

“Yeah, they’re not on speaking terms right now.” Jade tells you. “It’s been that way all week but you were too zoned out to notice, I guess. Dirk and Jake caught us right after we’d had sex. Dirk talked to Dave but I don’t know about what. It couldn’t have been good though.”

“So it’s the silent treatment?” you ask.

Jade shrugs. “Maybe. Dirk takes his relationships seriously and Dave _was_ cheating on you because you were still flushed.”

“I know.” you say, “The only thing that really bothers me about this is if he just used me to get you jealous.”

Jade frowns. “I was jealous of you. I even asked Dave if he was just using you to make me jealous, but he said he wasn’t, and he didn’t immediately drop everything to be with me either. I think he realized along the way that he _did_ care about you and didn’t want to hurt you. After all, he let you stay here.”

“I am more comfortable being pitch with him.” you admit, “It means I can annoy him and not worry if I’m being too black in our flushed romance. And in the end…I’m happy to have him in my life and I’m happy he has you to be stupidly cute with.”

You see why Dave has always fawned over her. Jade really is adorable when she’s embarrassed.

Kanaya visits you next, and brings the gift of a heating pad for your aches and pains. It’s embarrassing to receive this kind of gift from her but you are a bag of pain. There’s even some unpleasant, mottled bruises are your inner thighs and glute that you’re not fond of either. Its going to take days for that to fade.

Your last visitor is Rose. She’s wearing a black dress trimmed with bright green and a matching headband with a green skull. She looks irritated and unsteady on her feet. Her movements are familiar. Is she…hungover?

“Why did you show up? You’ve been treating everyone like the plague.” you say.

“Kanaya… _insisted_ I come.” Rose says, shutting the door.

“I heard you arguing with Dave; sounds like he was trying to apologize...”

Rose glares. “It’s none of your concern what’s going on between Dave and me.”

“Rose, tell me something. Is your boss a troll named Scrate?” you ask.

Rose frowns, “Yes, his name is Scrate. D. Scrate. He’s actually a CEO for Lil Cal Pictures with several other entrepreneurial businesses he owns and gives out scholarships and housing to impoverished people.”

“Then he’s a criminal or a corrupt businessman at least. He’s doing business with the Brotherhood.”

Rose stares at you. “I know that.”

You blink. “You did?”

Rose sighs. “Karkat, I’m not as _oblivious_ as you are. Of _course_ Scrate is a crooked businessman. All the businesses in New Jack City are crooked. It’s the just the way of the world. We are not the large players in their world. We are the people in the background. We proofread their papers and sweep their floors. We are invisible to them. I can manage it.”

“That’s what _I_ thought,” you say, “and I was almost turned into a sex slave.”

“Well that’s the difference between you and me.” Rose opens the door, “ _I_ didn’t make the mistake of sleeping with anybody.”

You give her a poisonous glare. You remember Dirk telling you about NEBio and the Brotherhood, Vriska saying NEBio had stock in the Amethyst Institute and used the trolls there to test their drugs and cleaning supplies on. Rose had already become one of them; another cog in a corrupt machine. Rose leaves the mobilehive, still not saying a word to Dave.

“It’s alright, Dave,” Jade says, outside the room, “just give her time and she’ll come around.”

You’re too tired to deal with this right now. You curl into a ball and fall asleep. 


	3. the wandering feral

You have returned to the land of the two moons and the purple-red night sky. You are with your Mother and Pollux, crossing the red sands. It is difficult navigating the desert with the three of you but after a year of travelling you have adjusted. It is musclebeast breeding season and the threat of being mauled by a territorial male is high. Even the slavers have retreated back to the seashore. Pollux is helpful with his powerful psionics but it is still tiring.

You find a beefgrub farm on the edge of the desert, surrounded by tall windmills. There are few beefgrubs left. Most likely there used to be more and they ate their weaker kin; beefgrubs will eat anything. The inside of the cabin stinks. Furniture has been turned over and drawers pulled out. Bandits and scavengers must have already scoured the place. You explore further and find the culinaryblock is the source of the stench. The block is wrecked; the cupboard ripped out and a giant gouging scar in the wall. A decaying troll lies on the floor, cut in half with old blood and viscera splattered on the ground.  

“He’s been dead for a long time.” Pollux says. Some trolls flinch at gore, but after seeing Mother’s feedings, very little troubles you.

“Mother, what did this?” You point to the corpse. “He’s been cut in half.”

“An Imperial Drone.” Mother says, after a minute of observance. “The trolls that lived here must have been expecting the Drone. The bandit killed them and the Drone showed up. The Drone mistook him for one of the trolls that lived here and since he didn’t have a filial pail or a partner, the Drone must have culled him. It looks like he tried to fight the Drone too.” She shakes her head. “Unfortunate. He should have just hid.”

“What’s a filial pail?” Pollux asks.

You eat beefgrubs while Mother explains what filial pails are and what they’re for. You keep the lights off in the cabin in case there are more bandits roaming. So far, there’s no other signs of civilization in any direction; just the wild animals prowling. Mother patrols in the daytime while Pollux and you whisper until you fall asleep. You’re afraid of rainbowdrinkers hearing you.

“There’s no such thing as rainbowdrinkers.” Pollux says, “That’s just an old lusus tale.”

“Rainbowdrinkers are real. I saw one.”

It had been when you were smaller, when Mother had to carry you. Mother woke you at dusk and said you had to move quickly because rainbowdrinkers were near. You were small and hid in her cloak as she ran with you. Through her muslin cloak, you see you saw the rainbowdrinkers at a distance. They were tall, shaggy creatures with pendulous heftsacks and ragged claws, mouths smeared with blood and howling.

“That’s just feral trolls.” Pollux says, “There’s a huge difference.”

A strange howling comes from outside that silences you both. You think its rainbowdrinkers. That night when Mother returns, you tell her about the sound, which she says were just wild animals. The howling and growling is still present though so Mother goes into the woods, telling Pollux and you stay behind for safety. You only stay put for a half hour before you get too worried. You locate a weapon (a sickle) in a room of gardening tools. With Pollux by your side, you leave the cabin and go to the forest. You find Mother in a thicket of scraggily shrubs.

She must hear your footsteps because Mother turns around, “What are you two doing here?”

“You were gone for a long time. I thought you were in trouble.” You hold up the sickle.

“I see you came armed.” Mother turns to the thicket, “I found the source of the noise. Look.”

You peek around Mother and there is a naked troll caught in a slaver snare around their throat. The slavers have abandoned or been culled but their traps remain. The troll is snarling, streaked with mud and their hair shaggy and matted.

“What’s wrong with her?” you ask Mother.

“She’s feral.” Pollux says.     

“It happens to olivebloods most often. Its tragic really.” Mother sighs, “There’s no way of helping her so I was going to put them out of their misery. They’ll be roasted alive once the sun comes out.”

Mother must be hungry if she’s preying on feral trolls. There’s no viciousness in the feral troll’s eyes, just fear. You move closer to her, while Mother tells you to be careful. You move closer to the feral troll, who trying to move away from you. You reach out and they attack. They seize your hand in their fangs, biting down. You struggle not to flinch. It hurts but you’ve experienced worst bites. Using your other hand, you stroke their matted, dirty hair. They’re still growling. You keep stroking. They look confused, then slowly releases your hand. They’re still glaring at you but a few more scratches around the horns and they’re purring.

You look at Mother and Pollux, who are watching stunned. Using your sickle, you cut the snare from his throat. You walk over to Mother and Pollux with the feral oliveblood following you. 

“Her name is Simhan.” You tell them.

 

* * *

 

You wake up but you’re not sweating and your heart isn’t pounding. You’re startled but not afraid. You feel a mild sadness, when you realize that Simhan was the Disciple. The tragic quadrant mixed love between the Signless and the Disciple was legendary; the stuff of operas, plays, and tawdry romance novels. And you know how it really ended. They weren’t two lovers torn apart by tragedy; they fell apart after distance.

Dave yawns, his fingers go through your hair. “Bad dream?”

“No.” you say, “Not bad. Just…really sad.”

Dave sits up. Jade is still snoring, “Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

You’re still aching so Dave helps you to the living room. You lay down on the couch with your leg propped up by felt pillows.  

“I can walk, Strider.” You sigh.

“Just relax, Karkat.” He says.

He gets you some cereal while you cuddle your heating pad. You have to eat slightly propped up against the wall. It hurts too much to sit up.

“I’ll take you to the clinic later.” he says. “If walking is too hard you might have to do crutches for a while.”

“It’s not that bad.” You lie, putting away the now empty cereal bowl.  

“I don’t mind watching over you.” Dave says, fidgeting. “It’s the least I could do after…what happened.”

“It’s not your fault. Stop being an idiot. Just…lay down, okay?”

He does lay next to you and you bury your face in his neck. You hold him close and shut your eyes, wishing time would stand still.

 


End file.
